His Morning
by surrendersomething
Summary: It isn't an official rule, per se, but this morning it's not about her. It's his morning. The story of how Castle and Beckett make the most... effective use of their mornings.


**His Morning**

**Author's Note: **so I can't really take full credit for this hopefully steamy little oneshot. Its inspiration comes from a combination of a book called 'Sweet Dreams' by Kristen Ashley, and the wonderful characters Andrew Marlowe has gifted us with. It's set about four months into season five, and really – that's all I need to say, apart from enjoy!

* * *

His morning.

It isn't an _official_ rule per se, more of a routine that they've settled into during the four months they've been doing this.

Being together. Falling in love.

But she spent yesterday morning plastered against the wall of his shower, hot water beating down on her and steam coiling around them as his fingers, buried deep inside her, brought her to two of the most toe curling orgasms she thinks she can ever remember having.

And then he had washed her hair for her afterwards, its effect so drugging on top of the pleasure still zinging around her body that he'd had to keep one strong arm banded around her waist.

Not that _that_ didn't feel amazing all in itself.

He had chuckled softly as he set her on her feet on the bathroom floor when they were done, pressing a gentle kiss on her lips and musing for a moment, voice full of affection, about how he had really got her that morning. Then they separated, both going about their usual morning routine with a spring in their step, smiles still in place on their faces when he handed over her coffee at the precinct a little over an hour later.

Which leads her to this morning. His turn.

Theirs is a relationship built on physicality, which is something neither of them are ashamed of. They have sex, almost every night they are together. Undoubtedly, the best sex of her life. It's creative. Dirty, with a side of kinky when the mood takes them – which is her favourite kind of kink, the type that catches you unawares and always leaves you wanting more. It's hot and desperate and intense, but also soft and gentle and attentive, all rolled into one.

She's _never_ had this many orgasms before. There's no denying his talent in that field, but it's his focus and dedication on her pleasure that brings him into his own. One of the things she loves about him the most is that there isn't a selfish bone in his body, and that becomes fully, toe curlingly, pleasurably clear when they're in bed (or elsewhere) together.

It's more than working for her, this unconventional, beautiful, amazing relationship they've managed to work so hard to cultivate. And no matter how hard that might be, no matter how much baggage they have to work through or how many difficult conversations they might have to have, she knows that ultimately, every day will end with him pinning her to the bed, wall or nearest available surface, or with him gripping her hips to guide her movements as she straddles him.

Falling asleep next to him every night after that feels pretty damn amazing.

And it's not that either of them are against the idea of morning sex. In fact, when they know her phone won't interrupt, they're all for it, and she feels her thighs clench at some of the memories of lazy Sunday mornings in his bed that have left her aching and sore in the best possible way for the rest of the day. But, restricted as they are by the nature of her job and the probability of needing to be at the precinct early or getting a call at the most inopportune of moments (from experience), they've developed their own morning routine.

She goes down on him (often waking him up with her mouth, early riser she is) or he leads her into the shower after her phone wakes them up, where they make the most of the time they have available. Which means she gets his fingers, and often his mouth if she asks nicely enough, until the steam and the heat leave her struggling to breathe.

And it doesn't always work out how they intend, but largely, they alternate.

One morning each.

Which means that this morning, it's not about her. This morning, it's her turn to encourage _him_ to be selfish, because it's his turn.

Freeing them from the covers, which pool somewhere around his knees, she studies her still slumbering partner, clad in nothing but a pair of boxer shorts.

He's a big man. Solid and muscled and built, and in the moments when she's perfectly honest with herself, she admits that she knew in the first moment she met him that she would come completely undone with what she somehow knew would be the gentle, powerful press of his body against hers.

If she had a type, he would be it.

And when the fantasy turned into reality, she wasn't wrong.

Sliding a finger under the wide, elastic band of his boxers, she lifts the fabric, biting her lip as the hot and heavy length of him eases free, bobbing against his stomach. He's definitely a morning person, telling her it's because she's just so _hot _in his dreams every night. So, every morning that it's his turn (and even the ones where it's not), she sets about proving that she's even better in real life.

Curling her fingers carefully around the base of him, she glances up and finds herself greeted with his warm, sleepy blue eyes as he blinks down at her.

"Morning, babe," she murmurs softly, rewarded with the heavy, gentle curl of his fingers at the back of her head. He's always slow to wake in the mornings, eyes hazy and unfocused. He's gentle, sometimes a little clumsy, but always affectionate in a way that makes her heart melt a little.

Especially when she's going down on him and he looks at her like she's giving him the best gift he could ever imagine.

Flashing him a grin, she leans down, her tongue swiping a lazy path around his swollen head before she lets him slide past her lips, her suction gentle as she eases him into a rhythm. A groan rumbles out of his chest, making her shiver slightly. He tastes good, he feels good, he _sounds _good, and she's never been as into giving head as she is with him.

He's intoxicating, in more ways than one, and the damp heat between her thighs is testament to that.

His fingers tangle into the curls at the back of her head as she bobs gently over him, dragging her hand over the thick length of him that isn't surrounded by the heat of her mouth. She can feel the powerful tension beneath her as his body surges to wakefulness, and she lets the fingers of her free hand settle at his hip. His whole body gentles immediately, and she hums softly, drawing him deeper into her mouth for a long moment before releasing him with a pop of her lips that has him groaning all over again.

"God, Kate," he mumbles, his voice low and sweet and slightly breathless, thumb rubbing behind her ear as she leans into his hand for a moment. "Drive me wild when you're gentle," he adds, body loose and pliant beneath her as she executes a wicked twist of the hand gripped around his shaft that has a gasp shuddering out of him.

Before he can catch his breath, she's on him again, this time picking up a rhythm that's gentle, but dirty enough to have him twitching and writhing beneath her even as she controls the strength in his body with the simple press of her fingers at the pressure point on his hip.

He might be her man, and a man who would do just about anything to avoid her feeling any pain, but there's no denying that he's certainly _all_ man, and he's _just _this side of too big for her to be able to handle the full strength of his body when he's filling her mouth like this. There had been a hint of pride in his eyes the first time she'd placed a steadying hand to his stomach and let him fall from her lips to breathlessly explain her reason, but that had been swiftly followed by a hesitance that spoke to exactly how much he loves her.

She'd had to work doubly hard to help him overcome his fear of really hurting her amidst his own pleasure, but she can say with certainty that every single moment was more than worth it (and repaid with _more _than her fair share of orgasms). And now, as he gives himself over to her without hesitation, it's nothing less than exhilarating.

Heeding his earlier words she takes her time, but the combination of her lips and tongue and the barest _hint _of teeth, along with the rhythmic stroke of her hand has him choking out her name before too long, and she feels the jackknife of tension in his body at the exact moment that his fingers find hers on his hip.

And as he comes completely undone, she swallows the evidence of his orgasm with her eyes locked on his, her name on his lips and their fingers tangled together, all the while trying desperately to ignore the throbbing between her legs that his pleasure inspires.

Releasing him from her lips, she lets her fingers continue a gentle, soothing rhythm over his slowly softening length as she crawls up his body, laying her cheek against his shoulder and pressing a kiss against his collarbone as she listens to his breathing slow and feels the steady burn of arousal through her body.

Fighting back a shiver, she lets herself revel in the feeling. Something that he's taught her to do.

"Kate," he drawls softly, drawing her focus and sounding exactly like a man who just woke up to some world class head from his girlfriend and, quite frankly, doesn't have a care in the world. Laughing softly, she tips her head up to graze a kiss against his jaw, all of a sudden more than happy to simply exist in the intimacy of the morning and the sheer amount of love she feels for this man, before reality intrudes and they have to face the day ahead.

"Lost for words?" she asks eventually, grinning against his chest as she settles back against him, because leaving her writer speechless?

Quite a boost for a girl's ego.

Seemingly recovering control of his body, his hand lands hot and heavy at the small of her back moments later, delivering a jolt of pleasure that's so powerful it shoots through her over-sensitised body all over again, straight down to her clit and to the pooling moisture between her legs. It's involuntary when she clenches her thighs together, but she has to work hard to fight back the moan that wants out.

"Baby," he murmurs, his voice all gentle and telling her that he hasn't missed a trick. Just like always. "Love how much that gets you going," he rumbles. His voice sends a shiver down her spine, and she lets a whimper free as he presses her a little further into the length of his body.

"Mm," she hums softly, her body twitching against her will as she tries not to arch into his fingers and think about _just _how welcome morning sex would be right now.

He stills after that, sensitive enough to her needs to give her the chance to get her body under control. Breathing deep, she manages to snuggle into him a little, her body grateful and her arousal slowly dropping to a low simmer that she knows will make its presence known throughout the day, keeping her just on edge enough that she'll jump him the second they're behind closed doors.

That's part of the reason they alternate mornings, another of the pleasures in life that he's taught her to enjoy, and she knows he gets as big a kick out of the anticipation on days when it's her morning as she will today.

It says a lot about how safe she feels with him, the amount of trust that she finds she's willing to place in his hands on a daily basis. The rewards are _well _worth the frisson of fear she sometimes has to overcome, though. That's not in question.

And somehow, she feels freer for it.

"Time to shower, Kate," he murmurs into her hair eventually, letting his palm smooth up and down her spine in an attempt to get her moving and ready to face the day, that in reality does nothing but ratchet her arousal right back up to 100. Burying her face in his chest in an attempt to get her treacherous, aroused body under control, she shakes her head because damn, she must have been a hell of a lot further gone than she thought if _that's_ all it takes.

"Gunna have to give me a minute there, babe," she gets out eventually, shuddering almost violently as his thumb strokes the small of her back.

"Get in the shower, baby," he all but growls, and she thinks later that she probably should have noticed the power surge back into his body as he readies himself to move, "swear I'll give you more than a minute."

She's up and moving by his hands before she quite processes exactly what his words mean, but by the time he has her pressed against the wall of the shower with the strength of his body as the almost scalding water rains down on them, she's fully on board.

Because apparently, his morning can be _her _morning as well, today.

_fin._


End file.
